The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-11-16
POONTHIE'S TURKEY.
BY THE A

BY THE AUTHOR OF "HELEN's BABIES" "
Nobody can have everything while in
this world; it was probably in accord
snce with this well-known law that Frank
AID Hester Gracely, who thought that
they had the loveliest child in the world,
had very little else. Indeed, their all.
aside from their little daughter, seemed
slarmingly little, except at such times as
they had to ch ,nge their abode, and
wanted to keep moving expenses at the
lowest possible figures.
But their bare room seemed exquisitely
furnished when under the influence of
their daughter Poonthie. Of course, the
ohild's name was not as outlandish as
bore spelled; she had been christened
Prudence-Partly, her father explained,
70 there might be prudence of some kind
In the family; but the pronunciation of
the name had been changed by the
child herself whose lisping tongue
could not approach any nearer to the
original sounds. She certainly was a
delightful little witch; her hair was mass
Of sunshine, her checks were full of roses,
and her eyes were really as much like
violets as her mother thought them.
Her parents were not much older than
abe when they played with her, which
one or the other did most of the time
when she was awake, so she was general
~ full of smiles, and abounding in quaint
speeches, such as are made by most child
rem who have adults for company.
While Poonthie's parents were looking
ut her, they were the richest couple alive
but when they were obliged to look into
their closet or pantry they wondered how
any other couple could be poorer. They
had married solely on love, and their
capital had increased largely by natural
accumulation, but twas not the sort of
thing with which one would try to buy
bread and butter, or pay a milkman's
bill. Frank had fallen in love with
Annie be, auSe she was lovely, and Annie
had loved him because he sang charming
ly, composed music for his own songs, and
played the violin. Their plan had been
to'fve on the proceeds of such songs as
Frank might compose and sell, for had
he ne. once sold two in single week,
and got fifty dollars for them2
But the music publishers had no soul
for really exquisite songs, Annie said, so
for several years the little family sub
sisted on what Frank could earn by play
ing the violin in the orchestra so-callcd)
of little theatre in little city, where
there were performances two or three
times a week. There always was enough
food for Poonthie, and the parents did
not starye but sOmetimeS when they
pretended they were not very hungry,
they could not hep thinking how dread
full starvation must be when mere ap-
proach to it was so shockingly discom-
forting.
Poon,hie had no such troubles, how
ever; her nearest approach to them was
when, one day, she diverted her atten-
ton Tor ore instant from buttercd toast,
poachod egg and mug of milk, and
lisped:
tsWhen I getth to be big folkth will ]
like water instead of milk, an not eat
any butter on my bwead2'
Her parents, after choking little, and
wringng each others hands under the
table, told her they hoped not, but
Poon;hie was thoughtful for at least
two minutes. Then she seemed to recall
something, and eXcla mel:
s'Thay, do you know watth comm
pity soon do; its ''anksgivin' Day.
"Yes," sighed Frank with a pitying
look ut his wife. Thanksgiving Ger.
tainly is coming, but what do you know
about it, Poonthie % 4